My Year as Benvolio

Recently I've reconnected with some of my college classmates on Facebook, which got me reminiscing about my college years. I was a theater major, and those I've been reconnecting with were all in the theater department as well.

Mostly I was a playwright and critic during my tenure at Stony Brook University, but I did do some acting. My favorite and most rewarding experience was when we did Romeo and Juliet my junior year. It was a different kind of production--the students were cast the year before, and when we came back in the fall we spent a semester studying the play, Shakespeare, his time, etc. Then, in the spring semester, we rehearsed and put on the play in late April.

I remember auditioning in the director's office (he was a professor there). I did the Queen Mab speech, because I desperately wanted to play Mercutio, which, let's face it, is the best part in the play. I got in the cast, but we were not assigned parts until late in the semester. When we did a reading of the play, people just jumped in and read, and of course I spoke up quickly when the Queen Mab speech came around.

But it was not to be. Mark Bridges was a natural for Mercutio. He was tall, dashing, and sophisticated, kind of like George Sanders. (I use his full name because he is now something of a celebrity--he is a costume designer for films and won an Oscar for The Artist). I was cast as Benvolio, Romeo's cousin, who's far more colorless than Mercutio, and ends up giving a lot of exposition. But the director cast wisely--Benvolio suited me to a T, because I was kind of shy, unlike the gregarious Bridges, loyal, and unassuming.

During the rehearsal process we did all sorts of fun things. We learned stage fighting--I got in one fight, with Tybalt, after trying to break up a dispute at the beginning of the play. I remember my first line: "Part, fools! Put up yours swords; you know not what you do!" I have always had a fascination with fencing, and it was really fun to get to use a sword (albeit a dull-tipped one). We also did tours, going to schools and doing select scenes from the play. Later, we would do a full production for a group of students. I never heard so much coughing in my life.

The play was done straight--set in Verona during the 1500s, just like Shakespeare wrote it. Our director had a reputation as something of a flake, mounting experimental productions. The phrase best associated with him was "feel the space." But he played it by the book for Romeo and Juliet, and we wore tights and codpieces. We did do some funky things during rehearsal, such as singing the play.

Because the class was bigger than the parts available, we doubled a few characters--namely Romeo and Juliet. The two pairs would play on alternating nights. One of the Juliets was Claudia, who was a major crush of mine the year before. I made a pretty good fool of myself in pursuing her, but how could I resist? She had huge brown eyes, a mouth like a bow, had volumes of lustrous dark hair, and was from Switzerland. By junior year, I was in futile pursuit of someone else. One of the Romeos was Frank, and as I see on Facebook he ended up marrying another in the cast, Nancy, who played Lady Capulet. Kinky.

The play was a rousing success, playing to packed houses. One of my professors said it was the first time he had seen students put on Shakespeare where all the actors understood every word they were saying. The stage fights were electrifying to many, and Mercutio's death, the fulcrum on which the play turns from comedy to tragedy, made the audience gasp every night. One night, when I lean over Tybalt's dead body, after imploring Romeo to get the hell out of town, I reached a plateau that perhaps many actors reach--I was out of body, completely in the moment, and not myself but Benvolio. It was a great moment.

I am a nostalgic sort, and this is the time period I miss the most. The camaraderie, the intellectual pursuits, the lack of worry about things like making a living. I didn't have a girlfriend, which made me despondent, but you can't have everything.